Harry Potter and the Bastards from Brazeneck
by Titus Oates
Summary: Harry Potter meets new friends at university... but the life he thought he could live happily and uneventfully is marred, as usual, by tragedy.
1. Chapter 1

"... which led to my dismissal from the Anglican priesthood, due to allegations of drunkenness, blasphemy and sodomy. And violence. I am a very violent person, Harry Potter," admitted Titus Oates, a 17 century perjurer whom Harry had recently met at Oxford (because he had been kicked out of Cambridge).

"I have been known to enjoy violence on occasion, myself. Because I am a wizard, and I have special powers which means I can kill people," explained Harry.

"Very good," said Titus.

At that moment, they were interrupted by Louis XIV, who was on a short trip to the UK.

"Bonjour, mes amis," Louis said, happily. "Est-ce que vous savez ce que je suis? Je cherche le pub qui s'appelle the Turf, parce que je l'ai vu sur 'Inspector Morse' et j'ai entendu dire que c'est super bien."

"No." said Titus.

Suddenly, the wall exploded and the incredible Hulk emerged with a huge club and killed Louis, who thought it was very unfair since he had already died once before in 1715 and found it a very disagreeable experience.

"Good grief!" exclaimed Titus in surprise, dropping his glass of Pinot-Noire.

"I learned at school," said Harry thoughtfully, "that there is a subject at school called necromancy, which could bring him back to life."

"Don't bother," said Titus, pushing the dead body to one side with his foot. "Let's get down to more important matters. Do you enjoy any drunknness, blasphemy or sodomy? I am thinking of starting a society here in college."

"No," said Harry, "but I know somebody who does!"

"Because Dumbledore is gay," said the Hulk.

"Shocking, isn't it!" Titus said, raising his dark and sexy eyebrows.

"Not really," said Harry. "I knew a long time ago, when Rita Skeeter's book came out. You need to say a special enchantment on the third page of every chapter and you could find out juicy secrets of Dumbledore."

"I just love those juicy secrets," said the Hulk, as he was leaving through the way he came.

"So, Harry.. now that we are alone-" Titus began.

"I don't think so" said Harry.

The End - for now.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Harry came down to the lodge to find a crowd assembled around the lifeless body of the famous French monarch, Louis XIV. He was happy to see the well known face, but more importantly the tufty read hair, of his friend Ronald McDonald in the crowd.

"Harry!" he cried out vociferously. "You will not believe this –"

"I think I may."

"But – but –" Ronald spluttered, nonplussed. "Who is he? How did he get here? And how did he end up… dead?" Roland's pallescent face betrayed his horror at such a crime, committed in cold blood, against such a distinguished personage.

"I think it might have something to do with this huge hole in the wall," said Hermione with a smug sort of look.

The assembled crowd gasped. Hermione was right, as usual: there was a hole in the wall – and it was huge!

"What could have made a hole of such immense proportions?" Ronaldinho gasped.

Harry was about to speak, when at that precise moment, Titus Oates appeared swaying in the brobdingnagian aperture. He barely had time to slur "Good morning" before he realised that all eyes were on him. Staring. Accusing.

Titus searched his memory, racking his brains for a reason as to why this was so. What had he done? Drunkenness? Blasphemy? Buggery? Theft? To his extreme dissatisfaction, he realised he had committed all these crimes. However, he decided to come clean and explain that although he had done wrong in the past, he saw the error of his ways and was willing to change – for good. Just like in that song. From Wicked.

"Please don't kick me out of Brazeneck," he pleaded. "I'm running out of places where I can actually show my face and live. Surely it is a basic human right, to be accepted, and loved? Instead I am shunned from every place… and what's the reason? I am a Scoundrel. Hath  
not a Scoundrel eyes? Hath not a Scoundrel hands, organs,  
dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with  
the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject  
to the same diseases, healed by the same means,  
warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as  
a wizard is? If you prick us, do we not bleed?  
If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison  
us, do we not die?"

"He is obviously guilty," said Professor Microsoft. "Send him to Azkaban."

"But wait!" cried Harry, breathlessly. "Wait! He's not guilty – well, not of murder, at least… I saw what happened… I was coming back from hall with Titus when we ran into Louis. He was just asking us the way to the pub when a huge green man broke through the wall and killed him! I tried to help and whistled for a cab but when it came near the license plate said "fresh" and there was a dice in the mirror! If anything I could see that this cab was rare, but I thought now forget it, yo home to Bel-Air. I pulled up to a house about seven or eight, and I yelled to the cabby, 'Yo, home smell you later!' Looked at my kingdom, I was finally there, to settle my throne as the prince of Bel-Air."

"Why should we believe you?" snorted Professor Dettol. "You are only an undergraduate."

"Take this man away to Alcatraz!"

"Titus! No! I'm so sorry." The tears flowed abundantly down Harry's smooth cheeks.

"It's all right, Harry," Titus said sadly as he was carted away by dementors which appeared from nowhere, "I shall probably get kicked out of Azerbaijan, too. I am quite good at that sort of thing."

At this moment, Harry fainted (because of the dementors) but it was okay, because Hermione had a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

"How can they send him to Azkaban when he isn't even a wizard?" Hermione exclaimed, breathless. "Azkaban is a wizard's prison. For wizards."

"What do you propose we do?" asked Ron, bemused as ever by Hermione's alacritous reasoning.

"We have to go there – and tell them – and prove that Titus is a muggle. Somehow." Hermione looked thoughtfully into the distance, her large, intelligent brown eyes sparkling with, well, intelligence. Ron stared at the ground and pretended that he was also thinking. Suddenly, something caught his eye, and he pointed excitedly towards the quad.

"Hermione, look!" Ron, ignoring the famous sign, ran onto the grass to retrieve something small and rectangular, glinting in the afternoon sun.

"Not now, Ron. I am thinking," Hermione replied automatically.

"Titus's Bod card!" Ron proclaimed, triumphantly waving it aloft his charmingly rubicund head.

"What? Give that here-" Hermione snatched the precious card impatiently and studied it eagerly. "Titus must have dropped it when that Dementor was trying to kill him –"

"Well, he did pinch its arse," Ron sighed.

"Titus D Oates… undergraduate reader in General Shadiness… And look! It says that he is a Muggle!" Hermione could hardly contain her excitement. "This is all the proof we need." So saying, she began a dignified trot – that we so often observe among those who would like us to believe they are too calm and cool to actually run for anything – towards the lodge.

"Wait, Hermione – aren't we forgetting something?"

"What? What could I possibly have forgotten? We have the evidence, the just cause, the heroic motivation… and I carry my brilliant brain and good looks wherever I go –"

Ron interrupted. "Harry?"

The wizard in question was still lying in a lifeless heap on the quad.

"Ah, yes. Well don't just stand there. Give him some chocolate or something." Hermione said, irritably. "I want to get going. Azkaban is miles away."

Titus awoke with the most tremendous headache. Since this usually meant he had a rather raucous time the night before, our loveable 17th century perjurer searched through his pockets for a sheet of paper which he kept with him at all times, in anticipation of raucous nights and headachy mornings. On it was written a few questions that Titus often found useful to answer when he was in situations like these.

Who are you?

Titus… Titus Oates. Unless he had had an exceptionally raucous night, he could usually answer this question. He felt reassured.

Where are you?

He appeared to be in a dark, damp cell. Shit. Next question…

How many people did you engage in sexual activity with last night? Are they still HERE?



The questions were becoming much too difficult. Abandoning them, Titus gingerly poked his nose over the edge of his bed. In the gloom, he could make out that there was another bed on the opposite wall, and that there was somebody in it.

"Hello," said Titus in his most jovial accents.

The dark figure shifted and rolled over in his bed. It was a gaunt man with steely grey eyes and a somehow shadowy face. He fixed Titus with a bleak and deathly stare, but remained silent.

"I say…" Titus hesitated for a moment, unsure of what exactly he did say. "It – this place is rather beastly, don't you think?"

His words met stony silence. Titus decided to go on, "Newgate has nothing on this. And that was a frightful place. Do you know, I was once whipped from Aldgate to Newgate for my role in the affair of the Popish Plot? I say role, when rather I concocted the whole thing. I think I would have a quite brilliant talent for crime, if only I was not always getting caught. Alas –"

As Titus reminisced on his 17th century life of crime, the expression on the sinister face of his cell partner appeared to go from utter boredom to slight interest, from slight interest to recognition, and from recognition to terror.

"Y… you!" He pointed a long, bony and trembling finger at Titus, interrupting his discourse on the comparative merits of Anglican versus Catholic priests when it came to sodomy. "_You!_"

"…I? Well, yes, I have a lot of experience, but I was focusing less on individuals and more on –"

Titus' new acquaintance was now clinging to the bars of their cell in what can only be described as deep distress. "Guards!" He cried. "Guards! Somebody, anybody, please! Help!"

"You in there," a moustachioed guard rapped briskly on the bars with his wand. "Quiet! You'll set the others off." Tortured wailings of insanity floated up the corridors as if in response to this exchange.

"Please, sir… Don't leave me in here with him! Don't make me stay here! Oh Merlin have mercy on my soul-"

"Why? What in heaven's name is he doing to you?"

"Nothing… nothing yet… but that's it you see! That's it! It's what he _will_ do that I'm afraid of!" Titus' cell mate let out a peal of crazed laughter, the laughter of one in utter despair. The guard, whose name was Graham, was fairly new, and no doubt very confused by this inmates behaviour. However, it was at this point that Hermione Stranger appeared, brandishing a small, but infinitely valuable piece of card.

"Stop! Stop! Don't… don't kill him!" she cried breathlessly, strands of golden brown hair falling over her face, her firm young breasts heaving from the effort of travelling from Brazeneck to Azerdarjeeling in such a short time.

Graham felt his blood pressure starting to rise. "Now – now look – look here, miss. You can't just come in here and – wait – how _did_ you get in here?"

"There's no time for that," Hermione snapped, with her unique blend of impatience and authority. "_You_ look here. This document is Titus Oates' Bodleian readers card –"

"A what?"

" – his Bod card…"



"Oh! OH!" Graham the guard fell to one knee in reverence. "His Bod card?"

"Yes. And just look. It says here that he is a _Muggle_."

"A Muggle? Really?"

"Yes." After a pause: "That means he shouldn't legally be imprisoned in Azkerboom."

"Oh. OH!"

"…Which means you have to release him."

"GET HIM OUT OF HERE!" shrieked the mysterious cell mate.

The guard duly complied, and Titus Oates one again stepped blinking into freedom, and embraced his saviour.

"Oh Hermione! How lucky I am to have someone as beautiful and clever as you looking after me. For you are so wise and intelligent!"

"Yes." Hermione glowed. "But please don't touch me there."

At that moment, Ron appeared, dragging the inanimate figure of Harry Potter behind him. "Hermione!" He looked from Hermione to Titus and then back. An expression of complete disillusionment and despair came over his face. "What are you _doing_?"

"Rescuing Titus, of course. You were too slow, as usual. We were just heading back to Brazeneck. Come along, Titus. And Ron! Hurry up! And don't forget Harry!"


	4. Chapter 4

Meanwhile back at the Time Bureau...

"So," Professor Microsoft narrowed her eyes. "What you're saying is... he would have gotten away with it, if it wasn't for you pesky kids?"

"Not exactly," said Harry. "I'm telling you that I know who killed Louis XIV, and it wasn't Titus –"

"It was you!" exclaimed Professor Dettol.

"No!" Harry cried impatiently. "It was the Incredible Hulk!"

"The Incredible Hulk?!" cried the Principal and Senior Tutor of Brazeneck in unison. "Impossible! He's our star student.1 He would never commit an act like this – unless... unless... he were... _angry_." They looked at each other with ominous faces.

"I thought I was your star student!" Hermione was sunk into despair. All her hard work... rescuing Titus from the jaws of the dementors... she might as well have not bothered for all the recognition she was getting.

"Miss Granger – please, you know that you are number one. We were just so tired of having to add 'with the exception of Miss Granger' on to everything that we've come up with a more streamlined system of footnotes."

"Oh..." Hermione was only half pacified. "How can you tell that you've added a footnote in speech?"

"It's all in the tone of voice," Professor Dettol reassured her.

"So – Professor –" Harry cut in. "You said, the Hulk wouldn't do something like this, _unless he were angry_? So it's not impossible, that something, or someone, could have made him so?"

Professor Dettol stroked his chin. "Well... I suppose you're right... but something like this has not happened in this college since the Great Grumious Grondor of '47."

"Please, it can't be happening again!" Professor Microsoft covered her face with a handkerchief.

Harry blinked. There was a lull in the conversation, until Ron Weasley spoke:

"Are you going to ask The Hulk himself about it?"

Microsoft removed the handkerchief from her face and glanced at Professor Dettol. "I suppose that would be an idea."



The I. Hulk's room was one of the biggest sets on Old Quad, as necessity demanded. He took pains to keep it neat and tidy, anxious to prove wrong the common misconception that Hulks were by nature untidy creatures. When our heroes, trailing superfluously behind the Professors, entered, after knocking "WELL HARD" as the sign on the door recommended, they found Hulk at his studies, wearing thick black-rimmed glasses and cradling a book in his great hands which looked tiny by comparison to these marvellous appendages.

"Ah, Mr Hulk!" beamed Microsoft. "Studying hard as usual! You ought to give yourself a break sometimes, you know."

"Professor, I never feel like I need a break... I love the subject so much, reading around it is the greatest pleasure!" The Hulk gazed into Professor Microsoft's green eyes.

"Oh, The..." she said softly.

"Ugh," said Ron.

"Why, the little –" Hermione pushed her way to the front. "I know you're hiding something Hulk! Where were you on Friday?"

"Wh- why, I was here, in my room, studying!" The Hulk flushed under his green skin, giving him a slightly purple tinge. "I swear!"

"Then how do you explain this?!"

"What, my coffee percolator?"

"Indeed. This is just the sort of weapon you might use to... hurt someone, isn't it? Maybe even ... to kill them!"

"I swear I only use it to make coffee..."

"Mr Hulk, don't try to deceive me. You think you're so smart, don't you?" Hermione's face twisted into a grimace. "You think you can oust me from the top position? Don't think – I don't know – what you're trying to do..." She was gasping for breath.

"Hermione..."

"Not now, Ron. Louis XIV was killed by a blow to the head, and I'll bet if we went right now to examine the body, we would find that – "

"Hermione?"

"Ronald! Now is not the time! We would – we would find that the marks on the head match exactly the points of the corner of this coffee percolator –"



"Hermione!"

"What?! What?!" Our heroine roared.

"Hermione, I was only going to suggest... what about this club?"

"Club? No I don't think ..."

"Yes, I remember now!" exclaimed Harry. "He did use a club!"

"Can you explain why you have a club in your room, young man?" asked Professor Dettol.

"I've been framed!" cried The Hulk.

"Well... club or coffee percolator, the truth remains that you have no alibi for Friday night, do you?" Hermione said, coldly.

"I... I..."

"Oh, The, how could you?" Professor Microsoft sighed.

"The truth... the truth... if you want the truth, I'll give it to you. I can't actually remember what happened on Friday night. My mind is a total blank. It's the first time something like that has ever happened to me... I was scared, I didn't know what to make of it, but I didn't want to tell anyone, especially when I heard what happened. But, Professor," He looked straight at Microsoft. "I promise you, I wouldn't have done such a thing! I promise..." He broke down in tears.

"I'm sorry, Minotaura," said Dettol. "It must have been him."

Microsoft's eyes were filled with pity. "But he was so... he was always so good!"

"I know. I know. But we have to catch the criminal within the next day or two, because Louis's family are coming for the funeral, and we can't have him at large... It may put them in danger! ... Plus it'll reflect badly on the college if we don't get him."

"Yes," replied Microsoft. "You're right, Dionysus."

She watched sadly as her favourite student was bundled away into the police van by dementors. "It's always the one you least expect," offered the head Dementor, leaning casually against the side of the van. The principal sniffed in response.

"Right, lads, take her away!" And with that, the van, the dementors, and the Hulk disappeared on their way to Azkerbuns.

"Well... at least that's over with," said Professor Dettol. "Now, anyone for tea in my rooms?"



"Sounds good," said Micrsoft.

"Yes! Thank you, Professor," said Hermione.

"Wait – wait – everyone –" Ron cried.

"Do hurry up, Ronald!" cried Hermione from down the corridor.

"But... what about... Harry..." Ron sighed the last part of the sentence to himself, glancing down at the prone figure at his feet.

1WEMG


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days at Brazeneck College were a bustle of excitement as everyone prepared for the arrival of the royal guests: Louis' family who, for the purposes of art – in keeping with Aristotelian principles of literature – and convenience, were travelling to Oxford for the funeral of their dear Quatorze (as you know, the French royal family, all being named Louis, refer to each other familiarly by their respective numbers) instead of having the body flown back to 18th century Versailles.

Our heroes were by no means untouched by the air of thrilling anticipation, as their animated discussion during Chaplain's Breakfast will reveal.

"Just think, Ron, royalty!" Hermione sighed, her eyes shining. "I always knew I was destined to greatness. Ron, do you not think it impossible that the royal family should leave without at least one of them falling madly in love with me?" And she ran her fingers through her long curly hair.

"Quite impossible," said Ron.

"And French, too," added Titus. "I've always loved France. Their capital city just also happens to be the capital of Drunkenness, Blasphemy and Sodomy…" Titus' eyes also shone as he remembered all the good times he had spent in Paris.

"All the staff are completely distracted," said the Chaplain. "Why, yesterday, those self-absorbed bitches Professor Microsoft and Professor Panasonic passed me by without commenting on my stunning new haircut. Harry, could you please pass the bong?"

***

On the day of the arrival of the _Famille Royale_, star pupil Hermione Granger was called upon to make a long and erudite speech welcoming the kings to Brazeneck, after which there was to be held a drunken and blasphemous revel (organised by Titus, who was the Entz Rep that term) in Lecture Room XI, to which everyone had to come dressed as their favourite Graeco-Roman god, in honour of Louis XIV, who had of course loved this type of party.

Hermione was ethereally stunning as Athene, far outshining her friends, Harry (Zeus) and Ron (one of the Muses), whilst Titus was gallivanting around as Bacchus (who else?), with a papier mâché donkey between his legs. "What ho, chaps!" he called cheerfully to our heroes as he weaved towards them. "How about a refill!" Hermione held out her glass. "I say, Titus, you do look wonderful. It's so exciting to be here with real royalty – I mean, not the fake kind we have nowadays."

"Yes, quite," said Titus. "Have you met the old devils?"

"Oh, no. I am still waiting for my time to be introduced to their majesties… being but an humble undergraduate, I wouldn't presume to –"

"LOUIS!" Titus warbled in a loud operatic falsetto, and 17 men, 3 women and a dog all snapped their heads Oatesward. "_Quoi?_" They pronounced as one.

"Just two of you will do. Er – Douze and Quinze, then." Titus plucked from the melée a tall handsome king dressed as the tall, handsome god of war, Ares, and a smaller king in a furry hat who looked as though he hadn't put much effort into his costume. "Sires, this is the famous Harry Potter who defeated the Dark Lord, and his lovely and talented friend Miss Hermione Granger. And Ron."

"Hi," said Ron.

"How do you do," said Douze, shaking Harry's hand.

"Enchanté," breathed Quinze, as he kissed Hermione's hand, looking deep into her eyes. "Et… et… moi. Je voudrais des moules frites s'il vous plait," said Hermione. The king laughed a deep, rumbling, masculine laugh. "You are quite a card. Let me get you another drink." And he slipped his arm round Hermione's waist and led her away.

"I say!" exclaimed Titus. "Bow-chicka-royal- wow –wow!" And he waggled his dark brows sexily at Harry, as, dear readers, you know well he was wont to do.

"What!" said Ron. "Just because he's king he thinks he can just … just… "

"He doesn't just _think_ he can. He can," said Titus. "Well, it seems it's just us men together. But we can still have fun. In fact, some of the best times –"

"Titus, you're touching me," said Harry, his green eyes flashing dangerously.

"Ah, what's wrong with a little human contact… Maybe you would prefer Donkey contact instead…"

"No."

Titus looked hurt. "Well, I see I am not wanted here. I shall – I shall go – go over there and talk to Professor Microsoft… she's always pleased to – to see me," he slurred. Professor Microsoft, who had been pleasantly conversing with Louis IX, looked horrified when she saw Titus stumbling towards her, but fortunately, the various wines decided to prove too much for Titus long before he reached his destination, and he collapsed on the floor in a drunken heap.

Harry and Ron fell into silence, as they often did when they were alone. There was a kind of understanding between them, you know. As in, Ron understood that Harry didn't like to say much in order to keep up and air of mystery, and his "strong and silent" reputation, and besides, at moments like these, Ron was always preoccupied with wondering where Hermione was so she could dominate the conversation once more.

"I say," Ron exclaimed presently. "There's Hermione by the punch!" And there indeed she was, sipping smugly from her glass. Ron jogged over a little too eagerly. "Hermione!"

"Oh, Ron, hi," said Hermione absently.

"Where's Louis XV?"

Hermione coloured slightly. "Oh – oh, he's just gone... somewhere... he said he was going to get something to show me. But he seems to have been gone for quite a while now." She looked at her shoes, perhaps embarrassed.

"Hermione," Ron took her hand, sympathetic. "Kings. They're often busy people. I suppose they have a lot of people to see on a night like this."

"I suppose."

"And... you know. They're not the most reliable of people. Especially when it comes to – well. Louis XV, he's known as the bien-aimé, the well-loved, if you know what I mean. He probably has a million mistresses at his beck and call..."

"Ron! Did I at any point express an interest in becoming a royal mistress?"

"Well, no, but –"

At that point, Ron was interrupted by a scream. It came from Professor Microsoft, who was clinging to Professor Dettol in horror, as they stared at the headless body of Louis XV which had just fallen out of the stock cupboard.


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm afraid, " said the detective in a thick Glaswegian accent, "There's been a murder!"

"Not again," sighed Professor Microsoft. "When will it ever end?"

"How did he die?" asked Professor Dettol.

"Ah..." said the detective. "That is unmistakable – this precision, this art, is the work of a guillotine."

"A guillotine! But what is that?"

"It is one of the many ingenious ways muggles have invented to kill without magic. It is the ultimate destroyer of tyrants, the terror of kings and aristocrats ..."

"A muggle did this?" Professor Dettol was aghast.

"I'm afraid so. But what is this?" He picked up a small piece of parchment, and on it in a singular, slanting hand was written,

"The Chamber of Horrors is once again open! The heir has risen again. Aristrocrats and kings beware!"

Professor Microsoft turned pale and looked gravely at Professor Dettol. "We can't let this news get out. We have to keep everything quiet. I have built my whole career on trying to prove this college is not full of Bastards and now just when – just when everything was going so well –" she faltered, tears getting the better of her once more. Professor Dettol put his arm around her shoulders. "There, there, Minotaura," He said, in reassuring, masculine tones.

Our three heroes were standing a little way away and had overheard everything.

"Oh my God," said Ron. "This can't be happening... "

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, her eyes narrowing momentarily.

"What do you mean, what do you mean?" cried Ron. "Doesn't this seem a little familiar to you?"

"No," said Hermione.

Ron was bewildered. "But don't you remember, in Hogwarts, the – Harry?!" he turned to Harry for help. Harry looked as though he was about to say something, but just at that moment Louis XVI came rushing in.

"MY GRANDFAZZER!" He wept.

"His grandfather!" wept Titus, snaking an arm around his shoulders. "This must be such a blow, let me comfort you, your majesty.

"You are too kind," sniffled Louis XVI.

"You are too handsome," breathed Titus, darkly.

"Oh la la," said Louis.

"Perhaps we could go somewhere more private, to talk..." Titus suggested.

"You won't be going anywhere!" The detective slapped a hand on Titus' shoulder. "We're taking Louis into Victim Protection. And – considering your track record – I don't think you want to be seen to be going anywhere alone with a king. You may not be able to go to Azkaban – but there's always

Wormwood Scrubs."

Titus looked anxiously after the Glaswegian detective as he led Louis away.

Harry watched the scene unfold with a sort of distant curiosity. Hermione filed her nails. Ron looked from one to the other in utter exasperation. "What are we going to do?" he kept asking.

"Oh Ron," sighed Hermione. "I don't think there's anything we can do."

"There must be something... There's always something... Remember how we used to always save the day?"

"Aren't you tired of that, by now, Ron? We're in university. This isn't Hogwarts anymore, Toto. It's Brazeneck, and there are bastards everywhere, and we have to deal with it. I've moved on , Ron, and so should you." With these words she stalked off.

"Hermione – Hermione – wait!" said Ron, downing some punch and running after her.

"Ah, Harry. It looks like we're alone again," said a familiar voice.

"Not now, Titus," Harry sighed.

"If not now, then when? You can't run from me forever..."

Harry turned to face the 17th century philanderer. "Titus. You've been around a while, haven't you? Do you know anything about the Chamber of Horrors?"

Titus frowned. "The phrase seems... somewhat familiar..."

"You've got to remember!" Harry shook him. "My chance to save the day once more depends on it!"

"I'm sorry, Harry but –" Then Titus' face suddenly assumed a sly expression. "If I do tell you, what will you give me in return?"

"I'll do anything!" Harry said breathlessly.

"Anything?"

"That's what I said, didn't I? Are you hard of hearing or something motherfucker? Shit –"

Titus smiled. "Well then. Let us take a stroll through Brazeneck."


	7. Chapter 7

The staircases of Brazeneck college were deserted. Harry and Titus seemed quite alone but for the faint friendly presence of the stars that twinkled above those ancient roofs and whose silvery glow seemed to illuminate the dusty windows.

"I wonder where everyone is..." Harry whispered, half to himself.

"I don't care," murmured Titus. "I finally have you here, alone, without any means of escape, without any of your silly friends who come along just to frustrate me –"

"I still have my wand." Harry waved the dread implement in front of Titus's lustful features. "Don't try anything funny."

Titus backed away slightly. "Ah yes. Although you know –" here he smiled eerily through the darkness. "I've heard those wands are great for causing pleasure, as well as pain."

"They might be," said Harry. "But for now, I'm keeping my back firmly against the wall until you tell me – ahhhh!" Harry disappeared through the wall he had just backed up against.

"Harry?" said Titus, tentatively. "Where have you gone?" Titus felt he could hear muffled profanities from behind the wall, but then again it could have just been the wind. The Wind often cursed him, you know, when he was alone... But there it was again. Titus leaned closer to the wall, and put his ear against it.

"Harry – is that you?" He put out a hand to steady himself as he listened with his ear against the cold stone. Then it vanished and he was tumbling into nothingness.

For the second time that month, Titus awoke in a strange bed. He went through his usual questions again. He was Titus Oates. He was – he was in some kind of... He sat up and peered into the darkness –

"Titus!" A pair of hands reached out of the darkness and grabbed his collar.

"Harry! I've found you!" Titus exclaimed happily.

"Where are we?!"

"I don't know. It looks like some sort of secret dungeon boudoir to me." As their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, they began to make out all sorts of strange instruments around the large circular room. Shackles, whips and chains hung from the incongruous hot pink walls, alongside other implements Harry could not even begin to identify, but they looked like they could potentially cause a lot of damage. The silken sheets on which they sat were also hot pink, and the bed was draped around with gauzy curtains and decorated with a number of soft heart-shaped pillows. There was a dressing table in one corner, holding a mirror, several jars and –

"A pensieve!" Harry gasped.

"A what?"

"A pensieve – it – it holds memories –" Harry jumped off the bed and ran over to it. "Dumbledore used to have one just like this in his office!" Harry began to feel excited. "And these must be the memories – look – there's loads of them!" The drawers of the dressing table, once pulled open, revealed themselves to be impossibly large, larger than one could have ever imagined from looking at them shut. They were all full of jars containing the same silvery white substance and labelled.

"Day 346... Day 768... Day 1002..." Harry selected jars at random, wondering which to try first.

"Here's Day 1," said Titus, picking up a jar from the top of the table. How does this thing work?"

Harry grabbed the jar and emptied its contents into the pensieve. Then he took Titus's hand and leaned in.

When the swirling mists cleared, they found themselves in exactly the same position, in the same room... only it was a little less dusty.

"What just happened?" wheezed Titus. "What did you – ah!"

At that moment, two men plummeted from the ceiling and landed on the hot pink bed.

"We're in the memory," Harry explained impatiently. "They can't see us."

One of the men lay groaning on the bed, but the other quickly disentangled himself and stood up. He had long auburn hair and twinkling blue eyes.

"Dumbledore!" Harry gasped.

"Really?" Titus said. "He's pretty hot. But – phwoar – look at his friend!"

Harry recognised the man on the bed as none other than Gellert Grindelwald, the sexy Dark Wizard of yesteryear. He felt a stirring in his groin, as everyone did when they saw the blond and beautiful Grindelwald.

"Albus – Albus – where haff you brought me to?" He moaned in an outrageously comical German accent.

"To my secret Dungeon of Love – otherwise known as my Love Dungeon of Secrets."

"Er – vat?" Grindelwald said.

"You heard. This will be your punishment for being-" Here Dumbledore's voice became a low growl – "A very, very bad wizard."

"Gott in himmel!" cried Grindelwald. "Anything but this!"

"Resistance is futile," said Dumbledore. "I have the Elderwand."

Grindelwald groaned, but didn't say anything.

"You may choose your first punishment," Dumbledore continued. "But after that you will be my unquestioning love slave. I have every toy you can think of to choose from, and lashings of Limberwand's Luscious Lubricant... Sherbet Lemon flavoured," he added, his half-moon spectacles flashing mischievously.

"Er – Titus?" Harry said, nervously, whispering despite the fact the two men in the memory could not hear him. "I don't – I don't think we should be watching this –"

"What? Why ever not?! This is the hottest set up I've witnessed since – well, for a long time."

"But Dumbledore was like a father to me! I can't – I can't just do this –"

Gellert had selected one of the smallest and most harmless looking implements, and was examining it apprehensively.

"Ah yes, the Extraordinary Expanding Escalator..." Dumbledore remarked. "Well chosen."

Harry turned almost as pale as Grindelwald, before retreating to the far end of the room, facing the wall, and covering his ears. This blocked out all but the most passionate cries:

"Who's been a naughty Dark Wizard, then?"

"I – I have –"

"Did you think you could ever defeat me, you scoundrel?!"

"N- no-"

"Professor Dumbledore needs to teach you a lesson!"

"Oh, Albus! You animal! You big, conquering, Elder wand wielding beast! Yes! YES! DO IT!"

After what seemed like an eternity, the memory finally faded, leaving Harry lying on the floor of the Secret Love Dungeon with his head in his hands.


	8. Chapter 8

Titus oates chapter 8

Harry moaned. "That was worse than dementors," he said, still clutching his head.

"Yeah, it was pretty hardcore," said Titus, still clutching his member. "I think I'll need to rest for a bit before beginning Day 2."

Harry looked up, and was about to comment on Titus' incorrigible lasciviousness when he noticed something moving in the corner of the dungeon. "What's that?"

"I don't know the name for half these things..."

"No – I mean – that!" As Harry pointed the creature looked as if it was trying to bury itself still deeper into its oversized black cloak, is though it was cold, or it didn't want to be recognised.

"I used to have a cloak like that, " said Titus, with a distant, dreamy look on his face. "Real wool. Back when I was a real charlatan..."

"A charlatan?" exclaimed Harry, and his handsome features assumed a suspicious expression.

"I told you about my murderous and wicked perjuries at the beginning of the story," Titus explained, but Harry was already walking over to the hooded figure.

"Aha! Just as I suspected – Voldemort!" said Harry.

"Oh... hi," said Voldemort (for it was he). "How are you?"

"How am I?! I'm just peachy," said Harry. "But what about you, old chap? You look pretty good for somebody who is supposed to be dead!" He uttered these last words reproachfully, for in fact his role in Voldemort's death had caterpulted Harry to fame and before coming up to Oxford he had signed a movie deal with a major Hollywood company to create a biopic about his life, where he would be played by Bruce Willis. Harry had always wanted to be a star; and he was afraid that Voldemort's reappearance could ruin everything.

"Why do you always ruin everything?" He said.

"Why do YOU always ruin everything?" said Voldemort.

"Touché," said Harry. "But I thought you were really dead this time. They're making a film and everything."

"Now Harry, don't be silly, you know I can't die," said Voldemort.

"Well, you looked pretty incapacitated last time I saw you."

"Yeah," said Voldemort. "But my spirit was called up from the underworld by two 15 year old girls performing a séance. Then I killed them and drank their blood and – well – the blood of virgins works wonders for all sorts of maladies. I was back to my old self in no time."

Harry let out a cry of frustration. "Well you'd better not let anyone see you. I wrote that I killed you on my personal statement, and if college finds out that's not true, they might kick me out."

"Oh, no! How tragic! Let us all pause for a moment to remember the career of Harry Potter, cruelly cut down in its prime." And Voldemort took out a violin from his sleeve and began to play a simpering tune.

"I didn't know you played the violin," said Harry.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Harry Potter," said Voldemort.

"Yeah, like – what are you doing here?" Harry retorted.

Voldemort looked slightly embarrassed and changed the subject. "I say," he said. "Who is your friend? And why is he groping me?"

"Oh, that's Titus," said Harry. "He's just like that. He's been convicted for sodomy like ten times or something."

"Five!" corrected Titus.

And at that moment the wall exploded and in came the Incredible Hulk, followed by none other than Hermione Granger.


End file.
